


Tag-Along

by absolutelyCancerous (cal1brations)



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Mafia AU, burning shit is what the mafia obviously does
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 11:12:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cal1brations/pseuds/absolutelyCancerous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wants you to see he’s serious about this work, that’s he’s not just the little kid in the gang anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tag-Along

“Wait! Axel, wait!”

You’re halfway through getting your coat on, arching a groomed brow at the blond boy who stumbles up to you, that cute little look of determination on his features. He stands up nice and straight before he opens his mouth to speak.

“I’m coming with you.”

It’s not a question. You  _like_  that he can be so certain of his own future, which barely rests in his hands, nowadays.

That’s why you nod in agreement at his statement, pulling an arm around him fondly as you head out to the job that awaits you.

.-._.-._.-.

The shit is heavy to drag out and around, but Roxas helps make the work go by faster—not so much by talking, but because he  _actually helps you out_. You stop and watch him every now and again, watch him heave and grit his teeth and the sweat drip down his face as he pulls the items together: a chest, a chair, a table, a bed. He pulls them into the pile, jaw set and eyes serious as he does so.

He wants you to see he’s serious about this work, that’s he’s not just the little kid in the gang anymore.

The fact he even came with you, even helped you break into the house and stood guard at the door as you helped the woman and child sneak out the back door, as you off’d the deadbeat husband whom the woman paid to have killed. She made sure to press the money into your gloved hand as you helped her out into the night, thanking you as you draped the extra blanket on her shoulder over the sleeping child in her arms.

She actually  _thanked_  you. Hushed and desperate, but you caught her tiny smile, her utter relief and elation that you’d come to save her.

That’s why you like this job. You can be a monster  _and_  a mercy angel, with no change or metamorphosis in between.

But now you’re stuck dragging the furniture out of the home, dragging everything out and burning it separately, away from the house; the boss explained someone would help her back home after things hadsettled down, but she insisted that every memento from inside was destroyed. That’s the reason you were sent—out of a gang of fourteen, burning is your specialty, not so much the silent murdering deal. But Roxas, he’s new, he’s a kid, too, and you don’t see much harm in showing him how a job is done.

When everything is moved, cleared out, it’s creeping close to dawn. The sky hasn’t changed color, but you can just feel the tickling of the sunlight that rests just over the dark horizon, under the dark-spotted sky. You’ve only got a little while more to do this job, then, otherwise you’ll never hear the end of it.

“C’mere,” you grunt at Roxas, who quickly moves to your side. He’s panting, he’s sweaty and he’s tired, but you’re proud he’s lasted this long out here with you; he’s an impressive little guy.

You open up your coat, take out the can of lighter fluid from your breast pocket. It’s not much, but it’s definitely enough to get the flames going. You squeeze the can, step circles around the pile and make sure there’s at least a drop or two completely around the pile of what makes up a home before you put the can back in your pocket, nice and neat.

Then, you pull out a box of matches. You light one, toss it. Light another, toss it. Three. Four. Five. Make sure the flames reach high before you stop tossing matches into the pile. Roxas watches silently, and you think the flames illuminate his face in the most godly of ways; golds and oranges light up his cheeks, make his eyelashes and eyebrows look white, make his lips glisten. Silent he may be, but you can read what his body tells you instead.

Fascinated. Enthralled.

“Let’s go,” you murmur, putting a hand on the kid’s shoulder as you move away from the flames, as much as you hate to do so. Roxas staggers a little, still looking over his shoulder to watch the blaze, like he might miss something important if he does, like it might be the difference between life and death.

“You’ll see it again sometime.”

“But sometime isn’t right now.”

You grin. Roxas look at you with calm eyes; watches as you pull a sheet of paper from your pocket, unfold it and stick it against the door, smoothing it out a little for good measure. It’s a notice, explaining that the house is empty, from such a date to another, and that this that and the other will be worked on in the meantime. An excuse for people not to dig around, not to pry and poke and wonder.

“We’re done,” you tell him, and Roxas leads you both back to the car, plops down in the passenger seat with the nice leather and seat warmers and all. He likes going for rides with you, whether it just be into town to pick up payments from so and so, or to help you execute a job. He always comments on how nice your things are, and you always tell him that he’ll get his if he keeps working just as hard as he does already.

When you drive away, the sun is just coming up. The flames from the fire are dying out, not completely gone, but there. You roll the windows down, just to smell the smoke. Roxas takes your coat from the backseat, cranks up his seat warmer, and falls asleep in minutes.

It’s a peaceful drive back.


End file.
